


Pain in My Heart

by JasnNCarly



Series: Jon Moxley (Dean Ambrose) & You [8]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 12:50:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18250208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasnNCarly/pseuds/JasnNCarly
Summary: No one said life would be easy with Jon Moxley as your best friend.





	1. Chapter 1

**x Part One x**

“I got him, thanks.” You grunt, swinging the door open and tossing him into the backseat. How he landed fazed you none as you pat the bartender’s arm, “Thanks for calling me and not the cops tonight, Ron.”

He shakes his head, shouting into the backseat, “He’s a lucky shit that you’re looking out for him, (Y/N)! Anybody else and his ass would’ve gone missing!”

“Yeah, fuck you! Your job is to pour drinks not—” Jon is cut off when you slam the door, yet he sits up and talks at the window, “talk shit, you dumb son-of-a-bitch!”

“Do I owe you anything?” You scratch the back of your neck nervously, blocking Jon as he continues to yell, “Property damage?”

“No worries, kid.” He pats your head with a laugh, “Just get that dickhead outta here.”

“Will do.” You walk around to the other side of the car, waiting for Ron to be near the entrance before you open your car door. You force the P.O.S. car into gear and hit the road; Jon’s yelling dies down the further you get from the bar.

You hate the way he gets when he’s drunk; today was not the day to be his sober chauffeur either. The shop you where your current job was at shut down today; you had no idea how you were going to get by. Soon, everything would be back on a coin budget. You needed Jon to be your designated driver, not help your urge to drink.

“Your car stinks.”

You roll your eyes, and your hands grip the steering wheel, “That’s because you’re,” You glance back at him, screaming, “FUCKING in it, Mox!”

Your outburst causes him to sit up; he props an arm on each of the front seats and pokes his head forward, “What the hell is up your ass?”

“You are so fucking lucky I don’t kick your ass out of this car right now.” You try to take deep breaths, taking a sharp turn so that he falls into the backseat again, “Now shut the fuck up!”

—————————————————-

“Come on, Mox, I can’t carry you.” You pause your movement, out of breath and propping him against the stair railing, “I’m not joking, man, I will leave your ass right here. One of your roommates can pick you up tomorrow.”

“I just need a minute.”

You knew what that meant, and you pray he doesn’t get sick. The apartment complex he was currently staying at was bad enough without the smell of his vomit.

“All right,” Jon turns to you confident, “I got this.”

“Sure you do,” You hook your arm around his waist and bring his arm around your shoulders again, making up the last flight of stairs, “You got your key?”

Jon holds up his key but doesn’t open the apartment door; you snatch it out of his hand and open the door. You use your foot to close the door behind you, and you debate leaving him on the couch. Too bad one of his roommates is occupying the space with a loud snore. You drag him to his room as he mumbles incoherently, and you’re certain your day could not get any worse.

His room is a mess, but you get him safely to his mattress on the floor. Grunting, you toss your arm and allow him to fall on it. You straighten your hoodie, wondering how you end up helping people who don’t do shit for you. As he chuckles, you want to punch him in the throat; instead, you kneel down and help to remove his boots.

Jon stares down at you, “Why do you take care of me, (Y/N)?”

You continue to unlace his shoes, “Fuck if I know.”

“You know I don’t deserve it.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I don’t deserve someone like you.”

You shut your eyes, hating that he never wants to have this conversation sober. You’ve been friends for almost two years, and whenever you thought there was something there – there just wasn’t. However, like this, he was happy to go to confession and use you as a priest.

He sits up as you slip one boot off and move to the other, “You should leave me alone.”

“No argument here.” You said, unlacing and thinking this may be your last conversation; you can’t take this shit anymore.

Two of his rough fingers force your chin up, and his blue eyes are pouring emotion into yours, “Did you know that you’re one of the only people I’ve ever met that has the outside matching their inside?”

“What are you? A poet now?” You remove your chin from his touch and force the other boot off; you sit up on your knees, and he scoots forwards. He places a leg on either side of you, his arms circle the spot where your thighs meet your behind, “I’ve gotta go.”

“Don’t leave me.”

You don’t know what to say. He’s so drunk that his eyes are half closed, signaling his sleep will be deep and nothing will be remembered tomorrow. However, his hug around you tightens as he leans his forehead against your stomach. You almost buy the lie, and you think this world is yours. You’re no longer in the awkward space between friend and girlfriend.

Yet you knew the truth. You were both nobody’s trying to make it, taking bullshit temp jobs until ‘the company’ came calling. You know what you have to do, placing your hands on the back of his head and place a kiss on his shaggy hair, whispering, “Okay, come on.”

Jon lets out a small sigh of relief, scooting back and falling back onto the bed. You take off your hoodie and sneakers before lying down in the empty space next to him. Your day doesn’t allow you to comfort him anymore than this action as you face the wall and not him. You curl an arm under your head and leave the opposite hand on your hip. A mental promise is made from your mind to your heart; as soon as he’s snoring, you’re out of there.

You can hear him groan, disappointed, but you don’t move. Jon’s weight adjusts behind you until you feel his breath against your hair; his arm slides under your arm and around your waist. You have no real choice as he grunts and pulls your back flush against his body; you find no comfort there though. It’s empty, and you’re lost.

When he buries his face in your hair, you know it’s going to be tight but he’ll be so out of you that you can still escape. You feel the tears building up, but you are fighting them. You are using every last bit of your strength to keep them back. You heart hurts while you stay in his arms, and you question what the hell you are doing.

“(Y/N)?”

You shut your eyes, feeling the tears on your arm, and try to feign sleep.

“You cold?” You remain silent as he moves, “You’re shaking.”

You try to ignore him, wanting to run; you just need an opening.

He moves his hand to your hip and forces you to lay flat on your back, “Wh—why are you crying?”

Your eyes pop open, and you’re terrified by his concern, clearly sobering him a little, “I’m sorry. I can’t stay.”

The second you get up, he reaches for you again, “Where are you going?”

Slapping tears away, you get back into your sneakers and zip your hoodie, “I got shit to figure out. I’m so sorry.”

“Wait, (Y/N)!”

Those are the last words you hear from him as you exit the apartment and disappear.


	2. Chapter 2

****x Part Two x** **

“Let me get this straight, you’re still only willing to work some Sundays and Monday through Wednesday.” Your temp agent lets out a heavy sigh, “Look, (Y/N), I could get you something permanent if you would just open up your schedule.”

“I told you I have business on the weekends.” You adjust uncomfortably, trying to appear as professional as possible in the only business casual outfit you have, “I’m trying to pursue something.”

“Less than a hundred dollars a match isn’t going to pay your bills.”

You hate that your introduction interview included what outside ‘business’ was on the weekends, “I didn’t really ask you for career advice…just some work.”                                                                                                                  

He rolls his eyes at you, opening a folder and explaining, “The soonest job I can get you is tomorrow; they’ve lost a maid at a hotel not too far from you. Want it?”

“That’s better than I expected.” You offer a bright, polite smile and extend your hand, “Thank you?”

“Yep.” He sends you out with the information and a wave of his hand.

You’re instantly relieved, knowing you’ll have just enough to make rent another month. This new job will get you the small things like food, electricity, etc. You hop into your beat up ride, relieved you can go home and try to sleep. You realize on the way to your hole of an apartment that your mind will wonder, giving you no sleep. Instead, you make a U-turn and head to your real home. The small space served as training, a school, and event center when an indy show rolled town or the small organization staged one of their own. Throwing your gym bag over your shoulder, you get cat calls and shit talk about your outfit. You ignore it, heading to the back and changing, ready to get some aggression out.

—————————————

“Lock up!”

You follow the repeated command, wondering when your trainer would pair you with someone of slightly more experience. After a few more, he nods, “Step out, (Y/L/N).”

You hop down from the ring, glancing at the clock and realizing you should probably head out for tomorrow. Patting his shoulder, you let him know, “Early start. New job.”

“Good work today.” He smiled over his shoulder, patting your hand, “Thanks for helping.”

—————————————

“Damn it…”

You are parking when you notice your lights are dim against your apartment building; one headlight is out again, another thing you couldn’t afford. You pray a cop doesn’t pull you over before you pay to get it fixed. Grabbing your bag, you swing open the building’s entry door; Jon sits on the stairs, lost in hungover thought. You make sure your door slams behind you, hands on your hips as his bloodshot eyes shoot up to yours.

“Took you long enough to get here.”

“Nice to see you rolled out of bed, Mox.” You snap, stomping past him to head to your apartment (up two flights), “Go home. You’re probably still drunk.”

He groans, beginning to follow you, “You are really loud sometimes.”

“Try to be!” You are already a flight ahead of him, nearing your door.

“Would you wait for me?” Jon makes it up the last few steps, moving to an immediate lean against the wall, “You gonna help me fill in the blanks from last night.”

“What makes you think I know anything?” You get your heavy door open, well aware he’ll follow.

“Two things. One, you’re pissed at me.” He does take your lead, shutting the door carefully behind himself, “Two, my shoes were off this morning.”

“What’s that my calling card?” You chuckle, leaving your bag by the kitchen counter and peeking into your refrigerator – thankful you remembered to fill the water pitcher the night before, “You want some?”

“Hit me.” Jon sits at one of the two stools you have at the kitchen counter – your semblance of a table, “So, do I have to beg or could you just tell me what I did wrong?”

“Besides getting shitfaced?” You place a cup in front him, shrugging your shoulders and moving your own closer to your lips, “Nothing.”

He watches you gulp it down and narrows his gaze, “Liar.”

You didn’t feel like revealing anything; you pour another cup, adding, “You may wanna talk to Ron though; he’s ready to relieve you of your balls.”

“That fucking guy.” He finishes off his cup, removing his jacket and tossing onto the stool beside himself, “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” Jon wipes his face with his hands, relieved he hadn’t done worse.

You decide not to tell him everything; yet after a moment, you decide to divulge a little, “The shop closed down.”

“That car place you were working at?”

“Yeah, done as of yesterday.”

“Damn.” He shook his head, scratching his scruffy chin, “What you gonna do?”

You top off both of your waters then return the pitcher to the fridge, “I get to return to the glamourous life of being a maid.”

“Nice!” He wiggles his eyebrows at you as he searches the span of the joke apartment, “Do they have a special uniform for you?”

“It’s a hotel, you perv, not a strip club.” You finish off your second cup of water, “Although, I’d probably make more money that way.”

“You’d actually share that body with the whole world when I still haven’t seen it all?”

That was the type of shit that confused you. He’d make the comments and fail at the follow through for whatever reason. You play it off, giving him a dirty look, “You got the information you wanted. You ready to leave?”

“What’s the rush?” Jon gets up and goes to your bed without an invitation; granted, you had no real furniture but still.

You sit on the stool he previously occupied, hugging one knee to your chest, “Lack of proper food is one.”

“Whatchu got?”

“Cheez-Its.” You shrug your shoulders at his disappointed look, “It’s been tight.”

Jon reaches for the phone on your bedside table and tosses the cordless to you, “Order some pizza.”

“You got pizza money?”

“I got you.”

—————————————

You wonder where he got the extra pocket change, but it could’ve been a number of things. His gambling, some wrestling gig, or someone ‘owed’ him something. Of course, being housed with other wrestlers in every inch of his trashed apartment had to help. Regardless, you were enjoying the first full meal you’d had since the beginning of the week so you were indulging.

The two of you sit on the floor, your backs propped against the foot of your high bed. Jon laughs when you grab another piece of pizza.

You pop a piece of pepperoni into your mouth, frowning, “What?”

“You’re one of the only people I know who picks the pizza apart before eating it.”

Scrunching your nose at him, you take a huge bite, “Better?”

He shakes his head, wiping sauce from the corner of your mouth, “Dirty girl.”

The two of you eat in silence until you feel stuffed; it’s not late, but you have an early day with the new temp job. You wipe your hands, taking the napkin with you so you can wash the grease from your hands, and you’re oblivious that he’s only a step behind.

He puts the leftovers in your fridge, finishing off his soda, “So, you kicking me out tonight?”

You finish wiping your hands, tossing the napkin and lifting yourself to a seat on the counter top, “What do you mean?”

“I know there’s something you’re not saying about last night.” Jon crosses his arms, leaning back at the counter opposite you, “I don’t remember much…but I remember you leaving.”


	3. Chapter 3

****x Part Three x** **

“Okay, what would that have to do with kicking you out? You bought dinner. We’re even.”

“Again, what aren’t you tell me? I’m sober now. Let it rip.”

“You sure you’re sober?”

“…pretty sure.”

You cross one leg over the other, your hands gripping the counter edge, “Could we just leave it alone? You were a mess, and I had a shitty day. I didn’t want to hang out with a drunk Moxley.”

“Now, I know you’re talking bullshit. Because I’m an amazing drunk, nothing but fun.”

“I just want to leave it alone.” You bow your head, knowing he won’t let it down, “…you say things when you’re wasted that…you don’t say otherwise.”

“Okay, like what?”

“Like—stuff I don’t want to talk about. Either you say it when your head is clear or fuck it, all right?” You shrink into yourself, your hands cupping your shoulders as you try to think of the perfect words to kick his ass out and to lose some ache from today’s training. You are suddenly very aware of how close he is and are thankful he doesn’t smell like last night; he smells like soap and cheap cologne – perfect and familiar. His hands on your knees prompt you to sit straight up as a heavy sigh leaves your lips, “What?”

“If I said anything that hurt you, I’m sorry.” Jon’s eyes are a little clearer, presenting that beautiful blue that erases all your worries, “I’m an asshole.”

“You are.” You slap your hands on top of his, “But you’re kind of my best friend so…God knows why…I can’t get rid of you.”

“So can I crash here tonight?”

“I gotta get up early.”

“I’ll roll over.”

You push him away, grabbing some shorts and a beat up Wonder Woman shirt; when you come back out, he pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside. You climb into your bed, burying yourself under the huge comforter and face away from him. God, your relationship was weird. This was comfortable for you two – that weird space where you were nothing and everything to each other. You hear his belt and know he’s stripping down to his boxer briefs; you choose to ignore it and shut your eyes. Maybe you can fall asleep before things get complicated.

He climbs into the bed, immediately scooting up to you and sliding his arm around your waist; once he buries his face in your hair, you can’t help but feel different than you did last night. He actually helped you get by today, and he’s not speaking nonsense. You hug his arm tighter around you, and he takes this as a signal to slide his other arm around your shoulder. When you are completely enveloped in his arms, you let go and fall fast asleep.

—————————————

Jon had done exactly as he said he would when your alarm buzzed in the morning, releasing you from his vice grip and rolling over. You’d be pissed if he wasn’t the cutest sleeper you’d ever seen. You pulled your hair back tight and applied light make up before grabbing your things and heading out.

The manager tells you that efficiency and speed are key (like you’ve never done this before); you take a master key and a cart of the necessities before heading to your assigned floor. The only nice thing about cleaning is that you can plug in and ignore everyone; the worst thing is how disgusting people can really be. You felt like you should be wearing a mask and hazmat suit as you go into some the rooms, wondering if some of these people rent by the hour. The money is not even worth breaking your back, but you have to do something.

Jon continues to confuse and frustrate you. You are positive a clean break, asking him for space, is the only way to end the tension; yet every time he is around, you lose all courage. The frustration fuels your movement for the day, the angrier you are…the better you move.

—————————————

“What?” You feel bad you haven’t hung with your friends outside of wrestling for some time; you decided pay day was the day, “You’re telling me that Dre’s stripping now?”

“Oh, hell yeah! And he’s going by _André_  now!”

You’re in a car full of women; all from your neighborhood – all who hate your job but love the guys you work with – and they are ready for some Friday night fun.

It clicks when you note their ample cleavage and heavy makeup checks; wide-eyed, you gasp, “Please tell me we are not going to watch Dre strip!”

“Girl, we are going to see more than just him.” The girls in the back move in unison, jokingly grinding the backseat.

You look over to your amused driver, “You guys gotta drop me off. I don’t really want to see that shit tonight.”

“Damn, how long has it been since you’ve actually been laid, (Y/N)?” She reaches over and uses two fingers to yank the zipper of your hoodie down, “You gotta let those things breathe! Share your banging body with the world!”

“Or at least a fireman.”  Someone cackles from the back.

You sink into your seat, wondering how you’re going to get out of this as the car speeds towards your destination. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you text one word to Jon as she pulls into the parking lot of the standalone establishment.

_Help!_

You know he’s got a show tonight, and you hated that you weren’t put on the card. This was not how you planned to get over your disappointment. The girls hook your arms, bringing you inside as the bouncer winks and tells you to get your bills ready. You feel sick getting into the club, nothing but women salivating in anticipation. You appreciated a naked (or near naked man) as much as the next woman, but your funds were low and your mind was busy. This was not the time. You take a seat at the table close to the stage, the one they had gained with the mention of Dre’s name, and you locate the nearest exit sign.

“Don’t worry, I got you tonight.” Your friends announcement causes you to order the strongest drink you can handle, “And keep them coming because my girl’s gotta enjoy tonight.”


	4. Chapter 4

****x Part Four x** **

Everything is pretty fuzzy around you, aside from the screaming and whistles. The music is so loud that you feel the thump in your throat and know you need air. It’s hard to move if not encouraged by the g-stringed men who are urged on by your friends’ dollar bills; you can’t really pay attention to that as you see the light glow of the green. You stand to your feet, using the seat to balance yourself as your girls laugh and enjoy the strippers final go round of the show. Nearly falling on your face, you’re relieved when strong arms prevent your fall, eliciting a giggle as you continue to step towards the exit.

When the cold air hits you, you see his big brown eyes awaiting you – an instant relief surges through you, “Dre! What’s up?”

He’s shirtless, his baggy jeans hanging off his hips and exposing the defined edges of his abs and hips, “You all right? That tequila looks like it’s catching up with you.”

“I tried to get them to drop me off.” You mumble as he pushes your curled hair out of your face, trying to gauge your face’s giveaway of how drunk you are, as you slur, “They didn’t listen.”

“I can see that.” He zips up your hoodie, trying to make sure you are somewhat together, “I have to finish this out. You want to sit in the back until I can get you out of here.”

You nod, barely aware of what you are agreeing to; he takes you back inside and waves at the beckoning women. He places you in a chair backstage, continuing to push your hair out of your face and examines your eyes again, “Sit up. I can’t have you getting sick.”

“Ay ay, captain.” You salute him, nearly falling off the chair with another giggle; he just shakes his head again, propping you up once more.

When he leaves the room, clearly frustrated, you feel your pocket vibrate and pull out your cell. Shit, it’s Jon. You didn’t clarify your one word text of earlier; now, you have multiple messages awaiting a response from you.

_What’s going on?_

_(Y/N), WTF?_

_I can’t help if I don’t fucking know what’s going on._

_I really don’t need this right now._

_ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE._

You find yourself somewhat agitated by his flood of messages, especially since you just picked him up days ago. You busy your fingers with a text message back, knowing it’s riddled with errors and incoherence; it was supposed to say,   _fuck it. I’m fine._

—————————————

Dre secures you in the passenger seat of his car, rolling down the window and helping you rest your head in the open space so the air hits your face. Though the two of you knew each other, attended similar house parties at times, you weren’t exactly close. His concern and caretaking almost makes you believe he wishes different. Since you misread signals on the daily, you dismiss the thought immediately. Thankfully, you knew each other well enough for him to drive you safely home.

When he parks the car, you feel a little more together, “Thank you.”

He strokes your hair, vaguely alarming you until you see his small smile, “Let’s get you safe up all those stairs.”

You nod, allowing him to help you out of the car, as you mumble, “Don’t you still gotta shake your ass tonight?”

“Yeah, I gotta be back at the club in twenty minutes so let’s go.” He slightly hoists you out of the car, taller than you, and cradles your waist as he helps you make your way towards the building.

You are about to enter when the building entrance door slams open; Jon walks out, clearly mumbling profanities to himself until he spots the two of you. Without hesitation, he is front of the two of you, “Shit…”

You can’t help but laugh, “Hi to you, too, Mox.”

“She’s fine. I didn’t let anything happen to her.” Dre frowns at the man who is a stranger to him, “Who are you anyway?”

“That’s none of your business; just know I’ve been looking for her for the past hour.” Jon takes your hand, tugging at you until you stepped out of Dre’s hold and over to him. His arm tightly circles your waist (almost too tightly) and sizes Dre up, “Who the fuck are you?”

“An old friend.” Dre frames your face with his hands, despite Jon’s seething breaths, “You gonna be all right, (Y/N)?”

You give a small nod, starting to feel very sleepy.

Dre continues to ignore Jon, “I won’t leave unless you say it’s okay.”

“He’s okay.” You swallow hard, still tasting tequila on your tongue and wishing you had another as you see the look on Jon’s face, “I’m okay.”

“All right, you call me tomorrow.” He seals Jon’s boiling anger with a kiss to your forehead, “I’m not far.”

Jon waits until Dre is in his car then turns on his heel and drags you into the building. He says nothing as he throws you over his shoulder and goes up the stairs to your apartment; you don’t completely understand his anger but you can feel it in his grip on you. When he’s at your door, he reaches into your pocket to get your keys. You are almost afraid to ask him anything as he throws the door closed behind himself and tosses you back onto your bed. Once you’re out of his arms, he begins to pace, “What the FUCK was that all about!”

It takes you two tries to sit up, the room is spinning. You cradled your head in your hands, setting your elbows on your knees, “They took me to a fucking strip club. I tried to get a ride back before the fun ensued, but they started buying me drinks and…you know the rest.”

“Okay, and that guy was…?”

You start to giggle again, looking up at him when his pacing slows down, “A stripper.”

Jon glares down at you, his breathing still is not even, “What would’ve happened if I wasn’t pissed enough to show up here?”

“Same thing that would’ve happened to you if I hadn’t shown up the other night…nothing.” You start to pull yourself further up onto your cushy bed, falling back onto your pillows, “You don’t need me, and I don’t need you. So stop bitching.”

You half expect him to call you a bitch, storm out, and call you tomorrow to see how you’re doing. It would be normal for you two, a normal occurrence, though it had been awhile since you were this far gone.

Jon surprises you, climbing onto the bed and sighing when he’s near, “I hate that I need you sometimes.”

“Drinking does that.”

You laugh again and pop your eyes open to see him staring down at you with palpable concern. It knocks the wind out of you, and you’re not doing well as it is. When his fingers tangle in your hair, as though he’s trying to avoid saying more or remember something uncomfortable, you finally see the slight tint on his skin. There’s also red in his hair and a cut on his forehead. You regret missing his match, but your worry sobers you slightly, “I should put a bandage on that.”

Jon stops you from moving, easing you back into a flat lying position, “Tomorrow.” With that one word, he lays flat beside you and brings you close to him. Relieved his anger has somewhat subsided, you curl into him and allow the stupor to beckon a deep sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**x Part Five x**

You unzip your hoodie, adjust your red crop top which is mostly lace, and warmly wet a washcloth then grab your first-aid kit. Since he’s still asleep, you wonder if you should change since you look like you just exited a club. You decide you don’t care, open the box and sit beside his hip. You take the wash cloth and delicately wash away the hints of blood from his face and hair. Jon’s heavy sleep prevents him from so much as a move as you tenderly take your time to care for him.

When you’re done, you reach into the box and get an alcohol wipe. It would no doubt kill his comfort. You inhale deeply and pat the large cut on his forehead, not surprised when he groans and his eyes start to blink open. Not allowing it to deter you, you continue to make sure the wound is clean, using a patient touch. Jon doesn’t move, allowing his sleepy eyes to stare up at you as you continue with your work. Reaching in, you get the antibiotic and touch it to your fingertip before it returns to the wound. When you see his focus is completely on you and his mouth is shut, you can’t help but smile down at him.

Jon takes a deep breath at this, as though he will say something, but he remains perfectly still. You wipe the excess of your fingertip and get a bandage that’s slightly larger than a Band-Aid. Undoing its casing, you are cautious while you press it securely around his wound. Once done, you move to retract your hand but your wrist is caught. Jon has it, kissing the palm of your hand as thanks, before you give a small nod. Gathering everything back up, you head back into the only other room of your apartment and return everything to its proper spot. You hear a small vibration and realize you hadn’t grabbed your cell phone before tossing your sweatshirt. You’ve got a message from Dre.

_Take two aspirin and call me._

You smirk, typing a message back to him,  _just as soon as I have my mind right, I’ll hit you up._

“That the stripper?”

You look up into the mirror to see Jon leaning against the door frame, “That’s a concerned friend making sure I’m still alive.” Shoving the phone into one of the back pockets of your jeans, you wash your hands and face then frown at your hair, “I look a mess.” Your hair still has loose romantic curls, but you could definitely tell you were out drinking by your complexion and exhausted eyes, “Good thing work doesn’t need me today.”

“You sick?”

“Nah, I could always handle my liquor a little better than you.” You smile at him in the mirror, wiping your hands on a towel before dabbing your face, “Just went to bed far too happy.”

“Must’ve been with all those men feeling up on you.”

You cross your arms, standing in front of him, “What makes you think that happened?”

He gestures towards your outfit, saying nothing else.

“They work for bills, Mox. I still have my whole check.”

“Well, damn, maybe I should start dancing.”

When he does, you let out a loud laugh and push past him. You crisscross your legs as you sit on your bed, shaking your head, “It was a mess, but I get what they were trying to do.”

“What’s that?” He falls into a seat in front of you, still facing the bathroom.

“I was so bummed I didn’t get on the card, even when I helped earlier in the week.” You don’t to look up; you don’t want him to see how disappointed you truly are, “So, yeah, I let them get me drinks and one lap dance to try to loosen me up.”

Jon frowns, looking over at you and catching your stare, “How loose you tryin’ to be?”

Enough to stop thinking about you. You keep the thought to yourself, shrugging your shoulders and hanging your head.

Reaching over, he lifts your chin and tucks your hair behind your ear, “You deserved a spot.”

You pout your lip slightly, still bitter, “Thanks.”  Jon runs a thumb along your bottom lip until you’ve bit it inward, trying to resist the urge to launch yourself at him. You decide distance is best and stand to your feet, ready to busy yourself.

Jon reaches out to curl his fingertips into some of yours; he waits for you to stop before extending his other hand. You put both of your hands in his and give in when he pulls you into a position straddling his lap; you hope he doesn’t notice that you swallow hard, unsure of what this means – especially since you’ve both been fully clothed since last night. When he says nothing, releasing your hands, you are hopeful until he slides his hands along your waist and pulls you into a tight embrace – resting his head on your chest.

This is what your relationship is made of, a bunch of almost. You know it’s because he doesn’t want to ruin what you have, once the line is crossed…no going back. But you’re not sure you can suffer in silence anymore; this situation is driving you nuts.

When his fingertips caress your spine, your body awakes at the contact. Closing your eyes, you place a kiss on his neck and wait for some kind of reaction. He lets out a long breath, now pressing his forehead against your shoulder. What you were looking for? No, but it’s enough to encourage you to kiss his cheek. Sobriety was a bitch. You couldn’t play it off if you took this any further. You start to chicken out, folding your hands behind your back and leaning away from him.

Jon stares into your eyes, and you detect a lust that makes you pretty sure not everything is in your head. He strokes your hair, until your face is cupped in his hands, but does nothing more. Waiting until he drops his hands, you lean forward and catch his bottom lip between yours. The softness of his lips surprises you as you keep the kiss simple, hoping he can understand how blissfully frustrated you are by him. You slide your hands up his arms and allow your arms to rest on his shoulders; then his lips return your favor, his nails somewhat digging into your back as he grips you tight.

Your better sense tells you to pull away, but you’ve waited so long for him. This is a happy accident, and you want to take advantage. He leans back, taking you with him, and the kiss deepens, your tongues taking time to massage one another’s. You could stay like this, nothing more needed, as you melt into him. Your hands snake into his hair as his hands start test his limits, his hands traveling further down and grabbing your behind.

That’s when the vibrating cell phone in your pocket brings everything to a stop.


	6. Chapter 6

**x Part Six x**

Both of you are suddenly very aware of what you’re doing as you pull away. Your hands are flat on the mattress on either side of his head as you’re forced to acknowledge the phone. You search his eyes for a moment, sensing his growing anger, and climb off him in a huff.

It’s a message asking if you’re interested in coming into work today; but you know he thinks it’s your ‘stripper’ friend. You want to tell him that the voicemail is about work, but he’s already in his boots and grabbing his jacket. When he exits without so much as a goodbye, you shut your eyes and toss your phone to your bed.

“Shit…” You know this labels everything in that moment as wrong, and you can only imagine what he’ll do to act like it never happened.

—————————————

You decided to take the work offered to you and go to the hotel; you almost feel stupid for doing what you did. If the kiss hadn’t happened, you two could still have friendly banter. Now, you fear what he might do in reaction. You find yourself rushing through cleaning without sacrificing work, and you realize your shift is an hour from ending.

Thankful you exit one of your last three rooms and find Dre outside, looking over your cart. You smile at him, shaking your head, “You here to lecture me, Doc?”

“Maybe a little.” He adjusts his ball cap, “Shouldn’t you be resting up?”

“A girl’s gotta pay the bills, you know?” You shove your cart a little further, “You should get out of here before my boss catches me slacking. How did you find me anyway?”

“Your girls have some pretty big mouths.” Dre grins, following you a few steps, “Besides, I can’t leave until I ask you something.”

“Should I be worried?” You ask, opening the next room to be confronted by an awful stench. Immediately closing the door, you try to mentally prepare for the damage, “Make it quick.”

“There’s a house party tonight. A lot of free drinks and some decent music? Thought maybe I could take you so you don’t feel sneak attacked like last night.”

“God, did I actually say that?”

“Those are almost your exact words, minus a few expletives.” The two of you laugh as he leans on the rail, overlooking the parking lot; he is awaiting your answer until a frown clouds his features, “Yo, isn’t that your boy from last night?”

You occupy the space next to him, looking down to see Jon and a couple buddies surrounded by a group of women. They are carrying liquor into a hotel room as the women undress them with their eyes. There is no question in your mind what is about to happen, and you swallow back tears – turning it into anger as quick as you possibly can. You turn to him, forcing a smile, “I get off in an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll swing by your apartment about half an hour after that?”

You nod, waiting for him to walk away before your smile completely dissolves.

Jon knew you were working here, maybe not today but people talk. Why is he fighting you so hard? Why are you fighting so hard for him? Shit’s gotta change.

You clock out, grab your things, and start to walk to your car. You can’t help but look in that corner where they had disappeared; Jon’s outside smoking a cigarette. You tend to turn hurt into hate, and he was making sure that happened. You force your door open, throwing your bag in the passenger seat, and attempt to start your car.

The sound must be familiar to Jon because you feel his eyes on you and look in your rear-view mirror to see him approaching your ride. You say a mental prayer, begging your car to cooperate, and the engine roars, allowing you to speed backward and nearly hit him.

“Jesus Christ, (Y/N)!” You hear him over your rolled up windows and try to kick your car into the next gear as he pounds on the glass, “Would you let me talk to you?”

You refuse, speeding as soon as the gear kicks over.

—————————————

You went all out, finding your mini black shorts and a black t-shirt that reached your mid-drift, the crimson words proclaiming, ‘Happily Single’. You pin your hair up and highlight your best features with touches of red. You walk back to your dresser and find your jewelry box, retrieving a silver heart/key necklace and small studs for your ears. It’s the perfect outfit to act a fool at the party, finely carved man candy aside.

 _You ready?_  Your phone rings, and you quickly reply,  _Heading down now._

There’s a small part of you that wished you’d find Jon either seated beside your door or waiting on the stairs; he was not. You draw in a deep breath, racing downstairs, and exit the building to find Dre leaning against his car, waiting for you.

Thank God for fine small favors.

—————————————

The house is packed with people, all forgetting the work week and looking for another person to disappear into. You may have done the same if Dre didn’t have your hands, guiding you around the room and somewhat introducing you to others. You accept a drink, downing half of it, and instantly feel a little lighter, trying to ease tense muscles.

A familiar dance hall beat begins to sail through the air, and you tug on Dre’s hand. Wanting just a moment to enjoy yourself, you sway your hips – well aware he’s watching you – and take him to a free spot among some grinding bodies. You don’t even turn to him, closing your eyes and falling in sync with the melody. Dre moves in, his arms around you as you begin to wind your hips, and he presses his chest against your back, enjoying every second and moving with you.

You lift your arms, reaching for the ceiling and singing with the song; Dre reaches up, intertwining your fingers and wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. It is heaven to forget how much it hurts to be rejected. Being wanted by someone is about as good as it could possibly get. This man wants to know and appreciate you in every way; he won’t run from you. Then, the thought hits you hard – he won’t be Jon.

You want to forget that; you want to be free. You want to forget his blue eyes and the way his lips felt. With this in mind, you turn in Dre’s arms. He’s all too happy to be facing you, nearly erasing the taste of Jon’s lips, until you see a familiar hand on his shoulder, yanking his body away from yours.

“Mox, no!”


	7. Chapter 7

**x Part Seven x**

He’s already thrown a fist into Dre’s face before your shout caught the attention of the party. Your stunned eyes see that Jon’s mentally not even there, wild with his anger, as Dre wipes a spot of blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Motherfucker!” Dre charges him, driving him to the wall before they start exchanging fists.

There’s nothing you can do to stop it; you almost wonder why you had let this happen in the first damn place. You knew neither you nor Jon was rational. They are finally dragged outside and separated by some bigger men in attendance. Exiting with them, trying to avoid judgmental eyes, you stand on the porch and watch as they’re pulled apart.

Dre’s yelling at him across the lawn, his boys holding him back, “Come on, you bitch ass little punk! I’m gonna make sure you pay for that sucker shit!”

Jon is aggressively held back, the attendees a little reluctant to keep Dre from pounding him, “Apparently, you didn’t get the message last night! Keep your fucking hands off her!”

An announcement of possible cop calls finally quiets them down; you take this as your cue to make an exit. You say nothing to either one of them, opening and closing the chained link fence; you move as fast as your heels will allow, not bothering to check how they were doing.

You weren’t drunk enough to go one way or the other. You just wanted to hide in your apartment which was pretty far from the party. You wonder if you can hail a cab on your journey or if you should stop to call somewhere. Either way, you needed distance.

“(Y/N)!” Jon’s voice isn’t hard to detect as you hear his feet run to catch up with you, “Stop!”

You pick up your speed and cross the street before a car pulls through the light; you somewhat hope it slows down Jon – no such luck.

“Will you just listen to me for a minute?” He cuts you off, holding his hands up in surrender when your eyes shoot daggers up at him, “I didn’t know you were working today.”

You can’t believe that’s the start to his apology, and you officially can’t take it, slapping him as hard as you can across his face, “Fuck you, Mox!” You stomp past him.

“Goddamn it!” His arms circle around you, lifting you off your feet as he drags you into an alleyway, “You’re gonna listen to me!”

“Put me down, asshole! I’ll scream bloody murder, fucker!” You almost do until his hand covers your mouth and the other pins you to the wall; given no option, you open your mouth and bite down hard on his palm.

Jon yanks his hand away from your mouth, “Shit!”

Kneeing him in the groin, you watch as he doubles over. Straightening your purse, you step around him and set off for your journey again.

Jon’s next statement causes you to freeze, “Nothing happened!” Turning slowly to face him again, you watch as he leans against the wall, one hand cupping his balls. He hisses at the pain, “Fuck…nothing happened. I didn’t touch one of those skanks, all right? I can’t speak for anyone else, but my fucking hands are clean.”

Shame blankets you. You assumed the worst, and it’s turned the night into a disaster. You walk back to him, hugging yourself, “You’re trying to tell me not one of those hoes had their hands on you?”

“They may have wanted to,” Jon gives you a crooked grin, still trying to get over the pain, “but nothing happened.”

“But you left before I could tell you that it was work, not Dre.”

“The stripper fuck at the party?” Jon groans, glaring at you, “He still found a way to get you to there tonight.”

“It’s because I thought…” You trailed off, drowning in embarrassment, “He invited me, and I had just saw—you were going into that room…you wanted to forget about me…”

Jon reaches out to touch your cheek, making the ache in your heart even worse, “Is that what you think?”

“You didn’t say anything after the kiss,” You shut your eyes, adding, “when I kissed you this morning.” Looking at him again, you see the confusion clouding his eyes, “You were mad that I had—”

Jon cuts you off, kissing you hard and grabbing you by the waist; he makes sure you’re breathless by the time he pulls away, “I wasn’t mad about that.”

“Okay,” You try not to be giddy, pinching your lips together, and shook your head, “But you are mad?”

“How the fuck did you think I would feel? You didn’t let me explain, and I had to find you grinding on the steroid stripper.”

“He’s not on steroids.”

“Right,” Jon exhales a long breath, adjusting a little on the wall, “So, I followed his car to that house and got in. What do I get for my troubles? A swift kick in the balls.”

You struggle for a second, bringing your hands to his shoulders and whispering, “I’m sorry.”

Jon smiles, oozing sex appeal and eliciting dirty thoughts from you, “Well, you could kiss it and make it better.”

You begin walking again, waiting for him to be a step behind you, and laugh, “Fuck you, you fuckin’ pervert.”


	8. Chapter 8

**x Part Eight x**

You two walk upstairs without discussion, your hands locked. When you get into your apartment, it seems to get even quieter between you even though you’ve been silent. As you lock the door, he moves to the side of bed. You follow suit, moving to ‘your’ side of the bed, and begin to take your hair down. You have no idea how ‘ready’ you should be until you see him slide into bed, boxer briefs on, and get the signal that you two are about to get to sleep.

Deciding to be as elusive as him, you strip down to your white and black pinstriped underwear. You almost curse yourself, thinking he’ll assume you were getting ready for someone else. Smiling, you swing the covers back and jump into bed beside him. You cozy up to him, covering yourself up, and rest your head on his chest. You’re happy to be in a familiar space, tempted to fall asleep and forget the monumental miscommunication between you and Jon.

He rubs your back, lulling you further into sleep, until he sighs, “I don’t know what happens now… I just wanna drink.”

Okay, so he’s being honest. You can’t fault him for that, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not good with this shit, (Y/N). I’m used to wrestling groupies, not a friend.”

You roll over, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him; he stares at the ceiling, avoiding your eyes, “We don’t have to take this any further, Jon. We can leave it like this.” You hate yourself for saying it, but you don’t want to lose him.

He reaches up to touch the waves your hairdo created, “You never call me Jon.”

Shit, you hadn’t even realized you had done it. You try to shake it off, “I just want to know what you’re thinking when you’re like this, not just when you’re wasted. If you have something to say to me, I want you to say it.”

“Okay,” Jon draws in a deep breath, playing with your hair, “I hated seeing that guy’s hands on you…I could’ve killed him.”

You got that part from his attack on him. In fact, you half-wondered if Dre had tried to go after or call you…or had he seen Jon with you. Your fingers lightly scrape his chest, “It was just a dance…it didn’t mean anything.”

“It did to me.” Jon grips a handful of your hair and pulls you down until your forehead touches his, “But I know what that means and…I would do just about anything not to hurt you.”

“Why?” You wrap your hand around his wrist, “Why do assume you’ll hurt me?”

“Because I don’t do this shit.” He laughs, releasing you, and is clearly frustrated with himself, “I’m going to fuck it up.”

“So, then…” You choke back tears, lifting your head away from him and patting his chest, “maybe we should take a break from talking for a bit. If we have some distance then—”

“You actually think I’m going to let you have space after what I saw tonight?”

Thank God, he doesn’t take the bait. You decide to create some physical space, moving over to your side of the bed, “I’m trying to come up with a solution here, and you’re not really helping.”

Jon rolls over and faces you, wrapping his arm around you and placing his hand at the small of your back; pulling you flush against him, he stares into your eyes, “My solution is here.”

You place your hands flat against his chest to prevent him from leaning in, “I’m not someone you can use to fulfill your needs and drop the next day.”

“Trust me, I know…that’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

You’ve never had him like this, and it means more to you than anything else. He’s being honest and open with you even though he could’ve just fallen asleep, leaving everything in the air. You draw your hands back to yourself, trying to keep your pounding heart in your chest, “We don’t have to figure out anything tonight.”

“Okay,” Jon looks relieved, making sure you know, “But I’m thinking about it.”

You are about to roll over and face away from him; but his lips touch yours as gently as yours had touched his this morning. You curl your arms under his, accepting his lips with all the patience you had; you can’t help but moan as his hands run up your neck to tightly grip your hair. His kiss got harder in reaction, and you make the sound again.

“Stop,” He whispers with his hot breath brushing against your wet lips, “you’re gonna make me lose it.”

“I’m sorry.” You mean it; you know you should not be confusing him more. Somehow, this reaction did not help as his lips crash against yours again. He falls against you until you’re lying flat on your back, and his hands untangle from your hair to travel further down. You want nothing more than to have him touch you, but your hand catches his wrist so you can reassure him, “Nothing has to be decided tonight.”

Jon nods after a moment of consideration, returning his lips to yours in a motion more tender than seconds before, and you wrap your arms around him, allowing him to kiss you until you’re both comfortable with leaving things alone for another night.

—————————————

When you woke up the next morning, you smile with swollen lips – sure you could fall asleep every night if he was kissing you until you were completely relaxed. Nothing more had happened and, while your body may not have appreciated the lack of action another night, your heart applauded your strength – that was a damn near impossible invitation to ignore.

You roll away from him, reaching down to retrieve your phone from your purse. Immediately, you note that Jon and Dre’s confrontation has drawn a clear line between the life you’re living now and the one you had lived in the past. Everyone wanted to know if you were actually with that ‘psycho’ who had the nerve to attack Dre among friends, and Dre’s message didn’t make you feel much better, only guilty.

_I don’t know what’s going on between you, and I don’t really care. You deserve better, and I can give that to you…if you’d give me a chance._

You are the worst person in existence. Not only did you go home with Jon, you hadn’t even reprimanded him for attacking your friend…aside from your knee. You debate before typing a small message,  _I don’t know what I’m doing…but I’m sorry._

With that, you drop the phone and blow out a deep breath. You were stupid happy until you read those, knowing you’ll run into everyone eventually. The sound must have woke him up because you feel the bed shift, and his arms around you, pulling you back to him and biting playfully into your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh, hugging his arm tight around you and ignoring the rest of the world outside your apartment.


	9. Chapter 9

**x Part Nine x**

“(Y/N)!”

You face your coach, unplugging your earbuds, and hope he has good news about the upcoming show, “Yeah?”

“You’re on the card.”

“I’m on the card?”

“This weekend.”

You clasp your hands together, gripping tight to keep you from squealing, “Thank you.”

“No problem, and there’s something else I want to tell you.” He tries to hide a smile, adding, “There may be some agents coming down for the show.”

You exit to the back, counting your blessings, and get your stuff to head back to your place. Upon exit, you smile as Jon approaches you, “Did you hear?”

“You got your spot, perfect weekend.” He maintains a foot of space between you, yet his look at your lips lets you know his thoughts are similar to yours, “Any other news?”

“I hope so after this weekend, don’t you?” You feel deflated when he bows his head, “Are you on the card?”

“Yeah, I just—” He awkwardly smiles and lets out a sharp laugh, “I made a stupid mistake in the ring today. It’s bugging me.”

“Oh, well…better now than the show, right?”

“Right.”

You can’t help but think there’s something more to it, maybe your talk? So you politely give him an out, “Well, work tomorrow so…I’m gonna head out.”

Jon doesn’t take it, “Give me a minute. I’ll meet you outside.”

—————————————

After you two eat at a diner, having mostly a one-sided conversation, you know something is wrong. You’re just not sure if it’s because of you. You don’t want to over analyze, but you are a creature of habit…this feels like it has something to do without you. He pays, you don’t ask why, and takes your hand as you head back out to your car. Before you guys could step off the curb, he stops you, “I wanna take you somewhere.”

“O…kay…”

“Give me the keys.”

Jon’s command causes you to cautiously hand over your keys; you feel weird in the passenger side of your own ride, but you find yourself enjoying things more when he rests one hand on your thigh. Content, you cover his hand with your own and interlace your fingers. From that moment on, you try to enjoy the ride. The warm night air whips through the last of your damp hair, and you’re thankful that you two had agreed to part for an hour, shower and change. You know you care about him when he changes the radio station and you say nothing.

When he pulls the car to a stop, you are overlooking the city and surrounded by no one. You frown, finally giving him your attention, “All right, either you’re going to kill me or you’re trying to make sure I don’t run.”

He doesn’t look at you, instead focusing on your joined hands, “I have to tell you something.”

Great, you knew this was coming. You turn your body towards him, trying to prepare for the worst and squeezing his hand a little more, “I’m listening.”

“…I got pulled into the office today.” Jon grips the steering wheel with his opposite hand, continuing, “One of the territories coming to check us out this weekend has big connections…and they’re interested in seeing me. Announced they’re interested.”

Half of you is ecstatic for your best friend; he has an opportunity to live out his dream. The other half knows that you two will never figure this thing out if he leaves town. You take a minute before faking a smile, “That’s great news! You deserve this shot. I’m happy for you.”

He shakes his head, anger now lacing in his husky tone, “You’re lying.”

“…not completely.” You admit, now playing with his hand between your own, massaging his palm and finding the right words, “You want this, and I want this. You have to take the first offer you get and build from there. Period. I understand.”

Jon tilts his head towards you, his voice softer as he speaks, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Somehow, someway,” You bring his hand to your heart, kissing his fingers, “you’ll always have me.”

You’re surprised your ability to put his feelings before your own; it terrifies you. Again, you’re giving him what he wants. You feel like an idiot, but you can’t help yourself. The awkward awareness hits you, a painful realization: you love him. You’re in love with him. But it shouldn’t matter, and it doesn’t if the opportunity presents itself.

Jon leans over, his lips replacing the touch of his fingertips. It’s obvious he needed your reassurance, and you didn’t let him down. Sometimes, you still had the ability to surprise him, being someone he could count on.

You return his kiss, investing every bit of your uncertainty and fear into it; when his arms attempt to close around you, you laugh and lean back, “We are not making out in this crap car.”

“Fine, your place?”

You nod, aware from the look in his eyes that this may mean he’s made a decision that you’re only halfway sure you’re ready for.

—————————————

He kisses you again just before you open your apartment door, and your body hums at the attention. Reaching around you, Jon turns the key and opens the door. When you are both inside, his eyes are set on you in a way that’s all new as he backs you towards your bed.

You feel like his prey, especially as he reaches back and pulls his shirt overhead to throw it aside. Nervously, you pull your tank top off and lean back on your elbows. You’ve only seen him this focused in the ring, determined to make something happen that the audience wouldn’t forget; you were his audience right now, and you were all butterflies.

Jon reaches down between you and begins to undo your pants; okay, do you panic now? You lay back, swallowing so hard that you hope he doesn’t notice, and lift your hips at the signal of his gentle tug, chewing the inside of your lip. When his hands work their way from your ankles up to your thighs, your eyes flutter closed.

His touch is electricity and fire on your skin; it shocks and burns you into blissful submission. You can’t protest because you’re numb to anything but how his rough hands feel on your smooth skin, his lips soon taking a turn to enjoy the taste of your inner thighs. Your hands grab handfuls of the comforter beneath you in an attempt to avoid grabbing his shaggy hair and pull him towards your sex. You gasp as he gets nearer, and it alarms him to a stop.

Trailing his lips up your stomach, over your breasts and to your throat, he speaks against your skin, “Are you sure about this?”

Fuck if you’re sure, but your body might shut down completely if you stop. You can’t verbalize any thoughts because your libido refuses to let you speak, fearing you’ll fuck this up. Instead, you pull his face up to yours and tangle your tongue with his – if that wasn’t an answer, you had no clue what might be.


	10. Chapter 10

**x Part Ten x**

Your kiss pushes him over the edge.

He presses against you, his strained length brushing against your soaked panties; lifting you slightly with his tight grasp on the back of your neck, he doesn’t lose the dance with your mouth. A hand slips around to your back, fingers unclasping your bra, and you check in only as he slides the straps down your arms. You allow him to remove the material and toss it aside; crossing your arms across your chest, you attempt to be modest under his hungry stare.

You’re thankful when he allows you be shy for a moment, his lips sucking and nipping at the crook of your neck and shoulder; his fingers meanwhile slide under the waistband of your panties. For the first time, you feel his fingers play with an area that had been marked with his name months before – whether he knew it or not. Your arms slowly become weak, falling to your sides as he finds a melody with his fingers and kisses. When his mouth comes in contact with your breast, you know there’s no way you’ll make it if he drives you over this way. After the wait, months of buildup, you would be ashamed of your inability to keep up. You can’t believe you’ve held out this long for someone you weren’t sure you’d have.

You decide to distract him, pulling his hand away from you and taking his fingers into your mouth. Watching you with heavy breath, Jon freezes until your mouth releases him. You elicit the reaction you were hoping for as he slides your panties down your legs. You prop yourself on your elbows, watching as he removes his underwear and retrieves a familiar foil packet from his jeans. You catch a glimpse of his length before falling backwards, part of you wondering if it’s been too long to enjoy this. When he’s back on the bed, grabbing the small of your back and moving you further up onto the bed. Your head is cradled by pillows when he dips down to kiss you again, erasing any thoughts outside of his attention. His hands pull your legs to embrace him and your arms naturally follow suit, hugging him close.

He groans when pushing into you; you can only manage to whimper. It’s hard for him to remain still as your body adjusts to a perfect fit around him; Jon’s lips place gentle kisses on your lips and cheek until you let out a breathless, “Please…”

Your apartment becomes full of your moans as he takes his time to enjoy your intimate embrace; you cling to him as the tension ripples through your body, savoring each movement he makes. As your body finally gets reluctant to let his body leave yours, your whole body tightening around him, you pull on his neck and give him permission to bite your skin hard as you both release. You are completely out of breath as he collapses against you, your bodies still working for a few last seconds of connection. When you catch your breath, he lifts his head up to gaze down at you; you can’t help but smile, feeling the warmth of your cheeks.

It is impossible not to blush as he stares at you like that, like you’re some kind of cure for whatever bothers him – like all he ever needs is you.

—————————————

Your body is sore as you go to work the next day, blissfully sore. Each ache reminds you of the multiple times you were connected. It reminds you that there is little confusion now; labeled or not, you know that the two of you had no longer trapped each other in the friend zone.

Work took a little longer as you tried to be mindful of your body; thankfully, the show was still two days away. You had already told the hotel and agency that you would be taking some time off for personal business.

“Guess it’s not hard to figure out if you got my text or not.”

His voice alarms you enough to jump; you spin around to face him, “Oh my God, Dre! You scared the crap outta me.”

“Didn’t mean to,” His face is still perfectly in order, but he’s clearly nervous, “Just needed to check in with you.”

“I’m good.” Your smile tells that story, as do the love marks on your neck; thankfully, he can’t see the huge mark on your shoulder. Still, you subconsciously cup the concealed wound.

Dre shakes his head, sighing, “You really giving that asshole a chance, huh?”

You wish you could explain everything to him, reason Jon’s actions. But the only explanation you can manage is, “You don’t know him like I do. I know it’s hard to understand, but there’s a reason he acted like he did.”

“Well, I meant what I said. You deserve better.” Dre reaches over to squeeze your hand, and it feels wrong when you think of how tightly that hand was squeezing Jon the night before, “Give me a call if you’re ever ready to drop him.”

You offer a weak smile, remaining scary still when he kisses your cheek and you think about the weekend; there was a good chance Dre’s disapproval of your relationship would be solved when Jon had to leave to pursue other opportunities.

—————————————

When the day comes, you are a ball of nerves. Yet you own the it. Your match is amazing, and you were thankful you had been paired with a woman of more experience. You could only hope that you caught someone’s eye.

Now, you peek out of the curtain as Jon’s match was going on. He was in full Moxley mode, tormenting his opponent and the audience with his foul mouth and matching talent.

Tears flood your eyes as your eyes cruise the audience, and you see the smiles or heated shouts back at him. You back away from the curtain and go to the back where others abuzz with excitement over their matches. You jump in where you can before disappearing into the bathroom, and you lean against the door as the tears make their way down your cheeks. By the time that bell rings you have to be okay, you have to be his friend more than his lover. You have to be happy for him and pray your heart will follow suit; the call will come.

—————————————

You had taken your frustrations out him in bed; Jon happily accepts and appreciates the view as you rode him. When you feel his body succumb to yours, you let go and give in with a drawn out moan. To him, it was the perfect evening. He was told to stay by the phone on Monday, and you took full advantage of his good mood.

When you rest your head on his chest, your body still comfortable on top of his, he embraces you and places a kiss on top of your head, “You can do that to me any time you want. Feel free.”

You smile, his heart beat echoing in your ear, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Rolling off of him, you allow him to remove the latex and get more comfortable beside you. He nuzzles your breasts, waiting for your laugh, and reaches up to caress your cheek, “We’ll make this work, right?”

You give a slow nod, despite uncertainty, and trail waves in his hair, “Somehow, someway…”

“I’ll always have you.”

His completion of your sentence almost makes you believe the lie; the lie that he’ll never forget you and that his opportunity won’t rip your heart out.


End file.
